


Small Creatures

by akaparalian



Series: Malec Week 2018 [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: To be fair, Alec had never actuallymeta Jedi before this particular one found him, but from all the stories he’s heard, the legends he grew up hearing whispered under the ever-watchful eye of the Empire… well, Magnus Bane isn’t what he had pictured, that much is for certain.





	Small Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> “For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.” - Carl Sagan
> 
> Day Four of Malec Week, and the prompt was Space AU, so I went with a Star Wars AU because of course I did. This is really a Rebels AU specifically -- or, well, Rebels crossover, I guess? -- but none of the references are really too explicit, so you should be totally fine if you haven't seen the show. (There's also a brief little easter egg from the Thrawn novel!) If you have, suffice to say that this is set season one-ish, and Magnus' mystery friend that they're searching for is, of course, Ahsoka.
> 
> If I ever continue this, it'll just be so Kallus and Alec can eventually meet and bond over 1) being named Alexander/Alexsander; 2) being former Imperials; 3) being in love with dudes with cat eyes.
> 
> A quick glossary of some SW terms that might be a bit confusing:  
> Kriff = an expletive, generally used similarly to 'fuck'  
> Bowcaster = a Wookiee weapon, the one Chewie uses in SW canon; I picked it for Alec because it's similar in design to a crossbow, which is as close as I could get to a 'regular' bow/archery. I imagine it was quite difficult for Alec to get his hands on one.  
> Inquisitors = a group of dark Force users charged with tracking down and killing any remaining Jedi after Order 66/the rise of the Empire  
> ISB = Imperial Security Bureau, which is a law enforcement/intelligence organization concerned with ensuring Imperial loyalty  
> Imps = Imperials  
> Holonet = the internet, basically
> 
> If there's any other Star Wars-y jargon in there that doesn't make sense, just let me know!!
> 
> EDIT: Russian translation now available [here!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7681538) Thanks, Roleri!

To be fair, Alec had never actually _met_ a Jedi before this particular one found him, but from all the stories he’s heard, the legends he grew up hearing whispered under the ever-watchful eye of the Empire… well, Magnus Bane isn’t what he had pictured, that much is for certain.

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been a Jedi in over a decade, darling,” Magnus points out very reasonably when he says as much one afternoon as they’re loading up a meager supply run in the cargo hold of the _Oath-Breaker_ , Magnus’ charming little death trap of a ship. Alec only looks doubtfully down at the lightsaber hooked casually through his belt, allowing his dubious expression to speak for itself.

Magnus scoffs when he sees where Alec’s eyes are. “Oh, you certainly don’t have to be a Jedi to use one of these. Or even a former Jedi. Kriff, you don’t even need to be Force-sensitive. An especially dexterous _rock_ could do it.” He pauses for a moment, before a dangerous, thoughtful gleam enters his eyes. “In fact, I bet _you_ would be _excellent_ with a ‘saber in your hand, Alexander. Would you like to try?”

“Glad to know I’m at least on level with a rock,” Alec says on autopilot, leaning one shoulder up against the crate he’s just slid into place — the last one of their small load — and trying to pretend that his mouth hasn’t gone absolutely dry as he continues to stare at the hilt of Magnus’ lightsaber. He loves the feeling of his bowcaster in his hands — the damn thing has saved his life more times than he can count, and it’s by far his most prized possession — but lightsabers are the weapon every kid on every planet in every corner of the galaxy grows up wanting to try, even just once, and ex-Imperials like Alec are no different. His gaze doesn’t waver even as Magnus easily slips the ‘saber from his belt and holds it out invitingly.

“Come on, give it a go,” he says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could cut your arm off. Or my arm. Or both,” Alec offers, but he takes the ‘saber anyway, his hands trembling slightly.

“Nonsense. I have complete faith in you.”

_That makes one of us_ , Alec thinks.

But he carefully points it at empty air and thumbs it on anyway, and when it sings to life Alec almost feels like he could cry.

Standing in the cargo hold, swinging it around carefully, so carefully, trying to pretend he doesn’t feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, Alec remembers the first time he’d ever seen this weapon, the first time Magnus had _let_ him see it. Just the corner of the hilt, peaking out faux-casually from under his cloak; the steady, cautious way Magnus had been watching for his reaction had told him more than enough about what a gift it was, what a sign of trust.

This, of course, is orders of magnitude greater than that had been, and every cell of him is aching with it. Magnus can be as flippant as he wants; Alec _knows_ what he’s holding in his hands right now, and it’s something far more precious and fragile than a laser sword.

—

“Are there others like you?” Alec asks, once the lightsaber is safely tucked away in Magnus’ belt again, its almost-white glow hidden away. They’re back in the cabin, rather than the half-empty cargo hold, and the ship — well, Magnus’ ship, but thinking of it as ‘the’ ship is at least better than ‘their’ ship, which sometimes slips into Alec’s mind if he’s not careful — is starting to come to life as Magnus’ hands fly over the controls. Alec has honestly forgotten the name of the planet they’re currently on, but he doesn’t really think that’s his fault; they’ve been to half a dozen in the last fortnight, and this one only for a few hours. Magnus _still_ hasn’t told him what they’re looking for (and that still stings), even though they’ve been traveling together for months. Evidently, though, whatever it is, it wasn’t here.

“Oh no, darling, this much grace and charm only comes around once a millennium, if that,” Magnus quips.

Alec glares at him, even though Magnus isn’t even looking, too focused on the nav read-out.

It works, though; Magnus sighs, rolls his eyes, and then turns toward him, trying to pretend his expression isn’t suddenly a lot more serious. Alec doesn’t think it would be quite right to feel smug, given the odd, downturned set of Magnus’ mouth.

“A few, that I know of,” he admits quietly, just barely audible over the hum of the engines starting up. “Not many at all, not anymore. Lord Vader is good at what he does, and those Inquisitors of his are rather gauche, but they get the job done. But… there are still a few.”

After everything — that admission, the ‘saber singing against his palm, the tired look in Magnus’ eyes — Alec knows he shouldn’t push his luck. He _knows_.

He can’t help it.

“Is that who we’re looking for?”

Magnus, to his credit, doesn’t look shocked at all by the question — just wryly amused, perhaps. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and shoots Alec an unreadable look.

“It’s a good thing you saw the light about the Imps; someone with your combination of clever and adorable would have absolutely been my downfall, ISB Agent Lightwood,” he says, half-teasing, half-rueful. Alec feels himself flush, but Magnus just keeps going, even though he’s already confirmed Alec’s guess without fully spelling it out. “Yes. I suppose I really should have told you before now; forgive me for being overly guarded, darling, but it’s not for my own sake. My… friend has gone to very great lengths to stay hidden, and I’m already undoing that enough just by seeking her out; I can’t just go spilling her secrets to everyone, even those I might want to. But yes.” He sighs. “I knew her during the Clone War. We were padawans at the same time, though she’s my senior by quite a few years.”

Fewer than Magnus wants to pretend if Alec’s gut and his rough understanding of the Jedi are right — padawans, he thinks, were meant to be within a certain age range — but he doesn’t say anything.

Magnus falls silent for a moment, too, then shakes himself. “Well!” he says, much more brightly. “I knew already that she’d be hard to track down, even with a very sharp and beautiful companion to help me out. So, on to the next planet, I suppose.”

Alec, as always, ignores the smoke-screen of confidence and flirtation, frowning even as he dutifully starts helping Magnus prepare the _Oath-Breaker_ for liftoff, his mind working a mile a minute mulling over everything that’s just been said and — perhaps more importantly — unsaid. But Magnus doesn’t offer anything else, and as they slowly make their way off the ground and up through the atmosphere, towards the familiar blackness of space, the silence between them is nearly deafening.

—

It’s not _Alec’s_ fault he ended up careening around the Outer Rim with an ex-Jedi, anyway. In this, as, he’s come to learn, in most things, the blame lies squarely on Magnus’ shoulders.

Alec had just been hunched over the bar at a shitty cantina, hoping his red eyes and haggard face would mask his Imperial-standard haircut and the shifty way he kept looking over his shoulder, expecting his mother to lead a battalion of Stormtroopers through the door at any second and drag him back to the Academy. He’d been officially a deserter for less than one standard day, having hopped immediately onto the least-reputable looking transport he could find and simply letting it carry him to its final destination. He was clearly alone, and clearly terrified, and though he knew full well that those qualities would make him a target in a place like this, he was too shaken up to do anything about it.

And, besides, he had _really_ needed a drink. 

The bartender had seemed nice enough, but kept shooting him curious looks, which he would very much have preferred to avoid. So, thinking it the lesser of two evils, he’d moved to get up from the bar, thinking perhaps he could find a nice, dark booth in the back or something. That had been his first mistake. (Though again, not really one he thinks he can be blamed for, given the circumstances.)

There had been two men in front of him when he turned around; he had no idea if they’d just approached or if they’d been lurking there for a little while, but neither option seemed especially good. He’d looked them over as carefully as possible: rough-and-tumble, dark clothing, one with a slowly-healing bruise on his cheek. They could have been anyone — bounty hunters, slavers, smugglers, garden-variety thugs. All Alec knew at the time was that there were two of them, his bowcaster would be more a hindrance than a help at such short range and was wrapped up and well-hidden under his cloak anyway, and, shaken up as he was, he was in no condition to do well in a brawl.

He’d stiffened, and one of the strangers had smirked, looking him over. The man had opened his mouth to speak, but before he could — or before Alec could even try to escape — there was an arm circling around his waist and a warm, hard body pressed up against his side.

“ _There_ you are, darling, I thought you’d gotten lost,” a sultry, honeyed voice had purred, very much loud enough to be heard even in the crowded bar. There’d been a beat of silence, while Alec was still too frozen in shock to react, and then in a much more serious tone that same voice had said, “Are these gentlemen bothering you, sweetheart?”

And to Alec’s surprise — at least at the time; he knows better now — the two strangers had turned tail and run, just like that. It had been another few wide-eyed seconds before he’d been able to turn and get a good look at his erstwhile savior.

Not simply melting into the bar and running away at that point had definitely been his second mistake.

The first thing Alec had noticed (and so sue him, he was only human) was that this new stranger was absolutely beautiful, in a showy, ostentatious sort of way. He looked almost hilariously out of place in that grubby cantina, all glitz and gleam, but it wasn’t the clothes or the hair — though both were ridiculous — that Alec found himself focusing on. It was those _eyes_ , the purest shade of gold he’d ever seen and with long slit pupils, twinkling with some amusement but also warm with genuine concern.

“Are you all right?” the man had asked, because Alec was too busy staring to say anything.

“Uh,” was Alec’s intelligent initial reply, before he cleared his throat, averted his eyes just a little so that maybe he wouldn’t be quite so distracted, and tried again. “Yes. Um — thank you, for that. You — you didn’t have to.”

That had earned him a chuckle and a careless wave. “Of course I didn’t _have_ to, darling. I never do anything because I _have_ to. I _wanted_ to. I’ve been watching you all evening, and I didn’t want to see your pretty self get into any trouble with guys like that.”

The casual jerk of a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the two vanquished men was disarming, but _I’ve been watching you all night_ was setting off alarm bells in Alec’s head. He’d felt himself tense up all over again, suddenly abruptly reminded that this man was a stranger, too. He’d opened his mouth, not sure what exactly he was going to say but sure he wanted it to be cutting, but been interrupted by hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

“Hold on, hold on, I didn’t mean anything by it,” the man had soothed. “Well — I did, but not anything _bad_. I mean, look at you, can you blame me? I don’t see many Imperial runaways with looks like yours, darling.”

That had _definitely_ set every possible alarm bell in his head blaring at full volume, and he’d succeeded in taking one step away and snarling “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” before he was interrupted again.

“Force, you’re _so_ defensive,” the man had said, amusement back in his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, dear heart, or turn you in. Trust me, if I tried, they’d forget all about you in their efforts to get to me.”

Alec’s third mistake was definitely letting that make him pause.

“What do you mean?” he had asked, slowly and suspiciously, but with genuine curiosity and interest all the same. “Who are you?”

He’d received a smile for that which was so blindingly brilliant that he’d had to blink it away.

“Magnus Bane,” the stranger had said, extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure, darling.”

Alec’s final, damning mistake had been taking his hand.

—

Somehow — Alec still isn’t sure exactly how, other than that Magnus could probably charm the pants off the kriffing Emperor, and Alec had, at the time, been desperate and terrified and incredibly alone — they had gone from that to a sort of business negotiation.

“Of course, I can pay you,” Magnus had said after explaining his proposition, once the two of them were holed up in a booth together at a different, slightly less sketchy cantina. 

Alec frankly didn’t even know what he’d do with credits, because he didn’t really know what he was planning on doing at _all_ at that point. Still, having them, having a steady income, no less, was certainly better than the alternative.

“And your own cabin,” Magnus continued. “My ship, she’s small, but not small enough you won’t be afforded your own space, don’t worry.”

That, too, seemed good. Almost too good. In fact, frankly, everything about this — everything about _Magnus_ , though Alec was all but sure that wasn’t his real name — seemed almost too good to be true, but what other option did he have? He had a handful of credits and the clothes on his back and little else, and while he knew he was smart, was capable, he also knew that his mother would be looking for him, and that he didn’t have the resources to keep running from the Empire forever.

But Magnus, well. If he was telling anything resembling the truth, Magnus had been running from the Empire for quite some time. (“The people who raised me were, shall we say, on the hit list the moment the Republic fell,” he’d said very vaguely as he guided Alec to this new cantina, one hand on the small of his back. “I’m very lucky I escaped. Most didn’t.”) Clearly, he had something figured out.

Alec took a deep breath. Magnus had fallen silent, watching him patiently, eyebrows raised.

“Okay,” was all he said, but Magnus’ whole face lit up with a wolfish grin.

—

They bounce around to several more planets before either one of them broaches the subject again, though part of Alec is halfway to bursting and asking a million questions about the Jedi Order at any given moment — about what it had been like, about who it was, exactly, that they were searching for, if she was a figure from the Clone War whose name he might recognize, about the Force, about _everything_. He’s almost shocked by his own curiosity, not sure how much of it comes from the ‘jedi’ element and how much comes from the ‘Magnus’ element, not sure whether he’s more interested in the myth or the man. 

Or, rather, he’s actually _very_ sure when he stops to think about it, but is trying to pretend otherwise so that he can continue to ignore the way his heart flutters whenever he sees that little frown Magnus gets when he’s concentrating, or the way heat pools in his gut every single time he turns a corner to see Magnus bent at the waist, up to his shoulders in the guts of the _Oath-Breaker_ with a wall panel tossed carelessly to the floor next to him as he tries to fix some circuit or system. Which, for the record, happens _incredibly_ often. So often that Alec has had to start spending a great deal more time in the ‘fresher than he’d really like to admit.

No matter what, Alec had thought he would have to be the one to screw up his courage and risk upsetting Magnus by asking again, pressing for more information. He’s wrong, though he supposes he should be used to Magnus’ unpredictability by now — it shouldn’t really come as a surprise anymore.

It’s late, when it happens. Alec is curled up in the co-pilot’s seat, knees pulled up to his chest in an almost childlike pose, but he’s alone in the cockpit, so it’s not like it matters. He’s combing through the Holonet for news, which is something of a ritual that he performs every few days. He keeps his eyes out for news of his parents, his family; he can’t help himself. He just hopes Izzy and Max are doing okay, lives every day grateful that they’d never been keen on the idea of sending Izzy to the Imperial Academy after him, that his dad’s too soft on her even though she’s twice the shot Alec is with a blaster and probably three times as vicious.

He doesn’t _just_ look for things about his family, though. He keeps a general ear to the ground, considers it part of his job duties, such as they are. There are some whispers coming from this one planet in the Outer Rim, not too far from where they are now, that he thinks Magnus might be interested in. The place is called Lothal; it’s nowhere he’s ever heard of, and none of the rumors Alec’s greedily poring over are actually _saying_ the word ‘jedi,’ but they’re close enough. 

He’s so tuned in to the report he’s reading — thank kriff for slicers; Alec’s no good at it, himself, but there are very talented people out there who are very fond of leaking low-security Imperial documents into the dark corners of the Holonet — about the increase of Imperial activity in the Lothal system, all of it tuned to capturing one specific ship and her crew, evidently, that he doesn’t realize he’s not alone anymore until Magnus says, “Do you have a minute?”

Alec bolts suddenly upright with a jerk, an ungainly little yelp falling from his mouth as he bangs his knee on the control panel. He isn’t glaring until Magnus lets out a little snort of amusement, but he certainly is afterwards.

“Sorry, sorry,” Magnus says, but he sounds too amused for Alec to really accept the apology. “I didn’t realize you were that engrossed.”

Alec pins him with a weak glare, mostly so that he can avoid letting his eyes linger on the way Magnus’ usual dramatic cloaks and capes and whatnot have been replaced by a soft-looking gray sleeveless shirt that does nothing to hide the very, very tempting curve of his biceps.

“Just checking up on the latest,” he mutters, gesturing towards where the report is pulled up on a little data screen in the panel in front of him. “You’re really gonna want to see some of this.”

“In the morning,” Magnus promises, draping himself elegantly across the back of the pilot’s seat. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Alec frowns, unable to stop the pulse of nerves that starts up in his gut. “What about?”

Magnus smiles at him, the expression surprisingly soft, all the amusement and teasing from earlier very much gone out of his face. He turns the seat toward him so that he can sit down in it, the motion graceful and composed, and sits there tilted toward Alec, their knees close to brushing.

“I imagine you must have a lot of questions,” he says quietly, his gold eyes flashing. “About my time in the Order. Frankly, I’m very impressed that you’ve managed to hold off as long as you have, Alexander.”

The anxiety in Alec’s stomach increases and abates all at once. 

“I didn’t want to… you know, push you,” he says, trying not to sound awkward about it, unable to make direct eye contact. “I’m well aware of why you might want to keep those secrets. Especially from — you know, someone like me.”

“No, darling, it has nothing to do with that,” Magnus rushes to tell him, reaching out to set one hand on Alec’s knee in a way that’s so uncharacteristically tentative that it makes him jolt. “Believe me, I’m well aware at this point that you’re not about to turn and sell me out to the Empire. You’ve certainly had plenty of opportunity. I know I make light of a lot of things, Alexander, but I…” He wets his lips, looking more than a bit uncomfortable. “I let you use my ‘saber. I _trust_ you. I promise it’s not that.”

Very, very slowly, praying that his face isn’t as red as it feels like it is, Alec nods. “I — I trust you too, Magnus,” he says, even though _he’s_ not the one about to spill any secrets. Well. He supposes he _could_ be, but Magnus already knows the secret that would get him shot on sight by any passing Stormtrooper. He’s known that Alec was a deserter, a runaway, since the moment they met — he called it out on sight. The only mysteries Alec has left to keep from him are smaller ones, personal ones. It just doesn’t feel the same.

Magnus takes a deep breath. “I’ve never actually _told_ anyone any of this,” he admits. “That’s the real problem. Everyone from — before, they obviously didn’t _need_ to be told. And there hasn’t been anyone since that I would have ever considered explaining this too.” A pause, heavy and thick with something Alec can’t name. “Just you.”

He can’t _breathe_. He wets his lips, staring fixedly at a point just beyond Magnus’ left shoulder, nearly shuddering when his eyes flick unbidden to his face instead and he catches sight of the raw openness there.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers, because all the curiosity in the galaxy wouldn’t be worth it if this is going to hurt Magnus the way it seems like it is. 

Somehow, in all his wonderings over the past few days, and before, he hadn’t really stopped to consider the _loss_. The Jedi didn’t just disappear; they _died_. More than that, they were _slaughtered_ , almost all of them, almost all at once, with survivors being picked off one by one. _There hasn’t been anyone since_ , Magnus’ voice repeats in his head, the echo almost cruel.

“I want to,” Magnus says simply, and smiles.

It’s a small smile, and a little wobbly around the edges, a little pointed, but it hits Alec like a sucker punch. He nods jerkily. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. You know I — you know I won’t tell anyone. Any of it.” As though he even has anyone to tell, but he needs to — to reassure Magnus, somehow, to make sure he understands. Which is ridiculous, because Alec himself doesn’t even really understand the strength of the urge that’s coursing through him to right now, the drive to _protect_ , to make sure Magnus is safe, as though his lizard brain somehow thinks he can defend him from his past.

“I know you won’t,” Magnus says, with something soft and very warm in his voice that Alec doens’t quite feel like examining too closely at the moment, and then he takes a deep breath and starts to talk.

Alec had been expecting maybe a brief synopsis, or a few anecdotes, or at most a ten-minute summary of Magnus’ life before the Empire. Instead, they talk for hours — mostly Magnus, with Alec occasionally interrupting to ask questions, something that occurs more and more frequently as the night wears on. It starts with, _I don’t remember anything before the Order, of course; we were all selected at birth or soon after, and raised in the creche, at the Temple on Coruscant,_ and it doesn’t stop until, _And then I walked into a certain very irreputable cantina on Lysatra and saw a young man with the most beautiful eyes about to be caught up in some trouble with a couple of thugs._

Throughout the whole story, Alec feels nothing so much as stunned. There are other emotions, of course; Magnus stays remarkably steady through a description of Order 66, of barely escaping with his Master only to see the man cut down in front of him only days later, but Alec feels his heart lurch and nearly break at the thought of Magnus, barely fourteen years old and terribly alone, watching the closest he had to a father figure be murdered and having to leave him behind, not even having time to pay any respects, just leaving his body cooling in the street. But the main thing he feels is a low, uncertain sort of shock, at everything Magnus is saying and at the fact that he’s saying it at all.

Magnus falls silent after catching up to the day they’d met, the point where their lives had intersected, and Alec has no idea what to do, what to say. The weight of it — not just the knowledge, but Magnus _trust_ in him, the fact that he’s just laid literally his entire life bare — is pressing down on him like a physical thing.

“Did I break you?” Magnus asks finally, soft and unsure and trying to mask it with humor, when Alec doesn’t speak for several long minutes.

“I,” Alec tries, but no other words come out. He swallows, hard, and tries again. “I — thank you. For telling me. I, I can’t even imagine how…”

He trails off again, but Magnus seems to get it. He smiles softly, and Alec feels his chest tighten at the sight.

“I trust you,” he says again, just as he had earlier, and something in Alec’s brain must short-circuit, because he responds to that by surging forward across the gap between their seats and all but throwing himself into Magnus’ lap, kissing him hard.

Magnus gasps agains his mouth but quickly gets with the program, groaning softly and placing two warm hands on Alec’s waist. Alec leans back slightly, head reeling at what he’s just done — _what has he just done_ — but Magnus chases him, pressing forwad to bring their mouths together again, lips soft and sure.

The next time Alec pulls back, it’s more of a mutual decision, and they hover just inches apart, both gasping for breath.

“Kriff,” Alec says. “Kriff, Magnus, I — I didn’t — you don’t have to —”

“Hush, darling,” Magnus soothes, grinning and sounding a bit out of breath. “Clearly, they teach you all about positive reinforcement at those dreadful Imp Academies, huh?” 

Alec blushes with a fierceness he hadn’t thought possible and shakes his head, _needing_ Magnus to understand. “No, no, I wasn’t that, I — I just —”

“Alexander,” Magnus interrupts again, pressing a finger gently to his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages. Practically since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Alec considers this. “Oh,” he says, because he’s not sure what else there is _to_ say.

Magnus chuckles, but it’s a very warm, affectionate sound that makes his heart thump; it doesn’t feel at all teasing. “Yes,” he agrees. “Oh. But I think we’ve both had quite an emotional night. We should put a pin in this, for now, and get some rest.”

Trust Magnus to be thinking reasonably about these things when all Alec really wants to do is stay here in his lap, where he’s somehow ended up with his thighs on either side of Magnus’, and kiss him again and again until maybe his lips fall off. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Alec agrees, and somewhat reluctantly slips off of him — though he doesn’t miss the promising way Magnus shivers as he moves. “Okay. Okay. Right. Um — I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Most certainly,” Magnus says. “You still have to tell me about whatever it is you were looking at earlier.”

Stars, Alec had completely forgotten about the news he’d been looking at on the Holonet before all of this. That can _definitely_ wait, though.

“Goodnight, Magnus,” he says softly, and leans down to give him one last very brief kiss.

Magnus smiles into it, and he’s still smiling when Alec pulls away. “Goodnight, Alexander,” he says, and it fills Alec with a warmth that he carries with him all the way back to his cabin.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://floralegia.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/akaparalian)!


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